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Tuesday, July 14, 2009

Mother Spider is more like it. I was actually looking for Monarch caterpillars this past weekend when I discovered several nursery web spiders guarding eggs on milkweed specimens in the western field. For the most part they were hanging straight down with their legs dangling, so I tickled their toes with a leaf - they curled up and posed for the camera, most obligingly.

While I was pottering about, the first of the season's Monarchs flew over my head, but it was the only one I encountered on the weekend. Seasonal rhythms have slowed down considerably this year because of our long wet springtime and the cooler (and wetter) summer weather. I am a little worried about the beautiful Lanark cicadas - they should be emerging just about now and beginning their courtship songs, but there is no sign of them so far.

All right already - the scribe likes all sorts of wild things, spiders and snakes and cicadas and coyotes and little red foxes and big black bears. Yes, she does... They are part of the Old Wild Mother's weaving, and they make interesting neighbors.

3 comments:

Keep telling us about your beautiful home and area. Some of your readers must be like me who live in the desert and all that green and coolness and rain is like a fairy story. Also love hearing about Spencer! You are still inspiring us and leading us beyond those fields. Thank you!

The spider photos are perfect. What an industrious little character... and beautiful too. I'm not wild about them crawling on me, or dangling over my head, but spiders in nature are a part of the interconnected whole, weaving things together as it were.

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Wise Words

These pages, too, are nothing other than talking leaves—their insights stirred by the winds, their vitality reliant on periodic sunlight and on cool dark water seeping up from within the ground. Step into their shade. Listen close. Something other than the human mind is at play here.

David Abram, Becoming Animal

When we deliberately leave the safety of the shore of our lives, we surrender to a mystery beyond our intent.